Never Be Late Again

One mom road tests advice on how to get kids out the door on time in the A.M. Here, what worked (and what didn't)

When I confessed our problem to a friend, she suggested I talk to Betsy Brown Braun, founder of Parenting Pathways (seminars for parents) and author of You're Not the Boss of Me: Brat-Proofing Your 4- to 12-Year-Old Child. Brown Braun sighed and told me I was falling into the oldest, most clichéd morning paradox known to momkind. By telling my daughter to hurry up, I was slowing her down. "The minute kids hear, 'Let's go! We're late!' they dig in their heels and slow down," Brown Braun said. Why? Because being rushed makes them anxious  and in the morning kids are often a little worried anyway. Younger children may have separation anxiety since they'll be away from their parents all day. Older kids may have social or academic pressures. "Kids can be very needy in the morning, but rather than asking for a hug and reassurance, they may pick a fight. That's one way they know how to engage," she noted.

Brown Braun encouraged me to start the morning with a little cozy time with my daughter. Then she told me to stop freaking out over the, um, "creative" monkey wrenches Daisy throws into our mornings.

"Stay positive and keep your eyes on the prize of getting out the door. Avoid time-consuming tussles," she said. "Then both of you can have a happy, productive day."

I took Brown Braun's advice. Instead of marching into Daisy's room at 7:30 and barking at her to get up, I walked in at 7:25 and cuddled with her for five minutes. It was really delightful. And one Wednesday, when she needed to reorganize her giant-stick collection just as her dad and she were supposed to leave the house, I said (I swear), "Awesome! We'll work on that as soon as you get home!" Looking a little suspiciously at me, my daughter left without a peep. So Brown Braun's advice was working  Daisy began to get to school on time, and without epic battles over something absurd.

The only problem was, I still felt like a drill sergeant every morning. I wasn't screaming "Hurry!" anymore, but I was yelling things like "This scrunchie is so cute!" and "Pee quickly!" I had not yet achieved calm, on-time momdom.

Inviting Other Options

So I did what any modern mom would do: I posted my heartache on message boards  how hard it was to pack my little darling's lunch, then get her up, fed and dressed, and off to school.

"Whoa! You are doing way too much!" replied Lindsey Whitaker, 29, a stay-at-home mom with five children age 8 and under in Battle Creek, MI. "You're doing about 80% more than I am in the morning, with only one-fifth the number of kids. And yours is older than all of mine!"

First, Whitaker was pretty sure an 11-year-old could figure out how to make toaster waffles and/or open a container of yogurt. Next, my online adviser felt that if Daisy didn't want to eat hot lunch at school, she was perfectly capable of making her own lunch. "Even my husband can put turkey between two slices of bread," she laughed.

Above all, Whitaker suggested that I do what sounded to me like playing hardball, but what she described as applying "natural consequences." Last year, Whitaker said, her 5-year-old, Alec, had wanted to wear flip-flops to school. She'd told him to put on his shoes. A lengthy fight ensued, and Whitaker let her son have his way  even though it was November and there was snow on the ground. "He's never done it again," she said.

The online moms also gave me grief about how I toiled over Daisy's long, thick, curly hair, taking 20 minutes to wash, condition, and comb it in the morning. I was instructed to braid it at night and secure it with a barrette. Another parent, online name Ronstarr64 (who turned out to be Ron Owen, a stay-at-home dad in Hopatcong, NJ), shared his secret: detangler spray. "Makes tangles almost gone," he enthused. "Everything is passable in less than three minutes!"

With Whitaker's and Owen's commonsense counsel, my family's weekday mornings took another turn for the better. Daisy began to like making her own breakfast and lunch. The detangler  well, that stuff is simply the nectar of the gods. Daisy's on-time performance neared perfect. But then the backsliding began. Daisy took four minutes to peel edges from her turkey slices. The detangler disappeared. We were getting back to our out-the-door-at-8:23 ways, and I was feeling ready to explode.

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